The Flower
by Lady Boadicea
Summary: A Women Discovers the Truth about Her Mother's Relationship with Malachai.


I was born in a small town due south of Nebraska and lived my childhood years in a large city; I had guessed that I was conceived within that city, but my mother told me time and time again that I was conceived in a quaint town in Nebraska but she refused to take me to the town, much less give me the name. She never told me the name-until she was on her deathbed.

When I was young, she would tell me of a romantic tale of how she met my father: "I was considered an outcast in that town and I lived on the edge of that town, as a result. No one ever spoke to me unless they wanted me to perform a task for me. I'd watch by my window day and night hoping that someone-anyone-would visit me. I held hope against hope that someone would come around that I kept my house clean and straightened, but I began to loose hope that anyone would come to me; I began to cry as I stared out my window into an empty garden, and soon, I completely abandoned my window vigil. The entire house went into complete disarray and nothing went picked up.

"But one day I heard a crash at my front door. My first instinct was of fear; but I knew I had to protect myself and I went to check to door. It was obvious that someone had broken into the house, so I went into my room to grab my weaponry; I slowly locked my door to keep whomever it was at bay until I could confront them, but for some reason the intruder was able to open my door without having to have tinkered with the lock. It was Malachai and he came to me and spoke, 'I have come to save you from Isaac-he plans to kill you.' I was immediately enthralled with him as he stood majestically and powerfully at my door. He took my hand and let me out the door and into a safe house that no one would expect me to be at.

"I do not remember anything he said to me because during the time we were running all I could think of was how good it felt to run again. He took me to that safe house and showed more affection to me than anyone had ever shown me. He was so perfect as a man that I felt that no one could ever match his love, but I shall not tell you of all that he told me for it would break all the mystery of him."

I never thought of how my mother used symbols to preserve my innocent mind until I became of age and began to understand what she was alluding to.

Once she disclosed to me my "original hometown" I sought to find it and possibly make a link to her past and into mine. I drove to Gatlin, Nebraska, but to only find a desolate skeleton of a town completely devoid of any substance of life. I held a picture of my mother's old house as I drove down all the streets until the house came into my line of sight. The beige house was in an obvious state of severe deterioration and abandonment. There was no question that my mother was a true outcast fore that even the house was pushed aside from society by the barn; no plants or weeds grew around it-just the baron and overgrown grass.

I parked the car by the porch and walked to the front door. She had not lied when she said that Malachai had burst through the door fore it was barely hanging on to the frame by only a nail on the hinge. Musk and stale air pervaded throughout the entirety of the house and dust clothed the furniture, or what was left to be furniture by termites and moths. Dead bugs and rats dotted the floor and glass shards laid by the windows. The kitchen was small and spices were strewn about the counters as if someone was desperately searching for something. The foul smell escalated as I approached the closet-like pantry-rotting animals that had once feasted on the food that was stored there. The knife cutlery stood untouched save for the one missing knife from the top portion; I figured that was the weapon she had to protect herself.

I proceeded to her bedroom; everything was in order, save for the few misplaced items that were carted off by vermin. I cold chill flooded down my spine as I got a feeling that set me uneasy. The feeling turned into intuition and I began to understand what exactly my mother was alluding to.

No one ever came to her unless they wanted to be sexually satisfied; men and women alike came to her to be fulfilled by the "Whore" so that their sins could be justified by sleeping with a non-member and sinner. As I sat on the bed, a vision came to me. The room and house was not in a mess but was kept tidy, dust did not blanket the furniture, as I had imagined, and clean, fresh air flowed freely throughout her room.

She was wiping the furniture in her room with a cloth when she heard her front door being broken into; she coward in fear on her bed praying that whomever it was would completely bypass her room. She was certain that Isaac had found out about her plans to leave and had sent someone to silence her before she could tell anyone about the town and the peoples' religious practices. Her heart beat faster than the heavy footsteps that gradually made their way to her door. The doorknob slowly, but fiercely, turned and the door was wildly pushed open. Malachai stood before her with wild eyes but she was relieved to see that he did not have his knife and sheath.

He loosened his suspenders and pulled her knife from the back of his belt; he wielded it at her threateningly and spoke, "Do as I say and I won't hurt you." He proceeded closer to her and unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a toned but slightly scarred torso. He pointed the knife at her signaling that she unbutton her blouse but she had no more fear coursing through her fore she had secretly admired him since the first time she saw him at school; his very air and stature commanded respect and he held power in his eyes.

He climbed onto the bed and loosened his pants and held his knife to her but she pushed it away. He kissed her bare neck and tore off her skirt with the knife. She took the knife from his hand and threw it to a corner and grabbed his head to hiss him. He was so wild that his focus was not of passion but to be satisfied.

He shifted his weight upon her and spread her legs around him. He grabbed her body with such great strength that he nearly broke her skin. Her sex throbbed in an orgasm as she felt him engorge inside her and spill inside. He did not easily relax but he eventually did and pulled out of her; he took a deep breath to regain his breathing rhythm and got up. He wiped his sweaty face on his shirt and pulled his pants back on and walked out of the room without look back.

She sat up and realized that he was the strongest she had ever felt and even checked herself to make sure she was not bleeding or that her sex had not been stretch too far that it would not resume its normal shape. She wiped her face with the bed sheets and stood up to clothe herself.

She felt that now was the time to leave and so she straightened the bed and put on running shoes and left without anything except for the knife that she threw to the corner.

I came back to my senses and got off the bed; I walked out of the house, and out of the corner of the porch a flower was growing, alone, but beautiful. I picked it and went to my car to get a piece of paper, wetted it, and wrapped it around the stem to keep it fresh. I drove the hours to my mother's grave and placed the flower on her grave. I left the grave wishing that I had not ventured into Gatlin to find out the truth; I prefer my mother's tale to the truth.


End file.
